Integration
by Mixer
Summary: SmallvilleBuffy cross over: A certain hell goddess finds herself in a state of amnesia and in the care of Clark. While across the world a post season seven council Buffy has been assembled.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.  
Prologue**

"_Thou shall not worship any god but me" 1st Commandment_

Clark Kent sat in the old red pick up his family had owned since before his arrival on earth, he was unsettled, almost melancholy, as he drove through the dark and deserted streets of Metropolis. Ever since his father had died he couldn't seem to draw himself back into the world, the rage that had burned inside of him was little more then a simmer and without the companionship of his fury he simply couldn't find the passion for life that he had once known. It was like an abyss, a void, a black hole that consumed his emotions, his ideals, everything that had once made him Clark, now he was just a shell, a remnant.

His mother told him the emptiness wasn't a feeling unique to him, Lana told him the same thing, even Lex had said he felt something similar when the anger at his mothers death had finally subsided. But none of that mattered; none of them were super powered aliens that could lay waste to a city in the time it took to finish a good meal. Without a connection to the world Clark knew he could become dangerous, if he couldn't find it in himself to care about the people in his life again, he would never be able to care about the lives of the billions of strangers surrounding him.

The ebb and flow of city life pulsed around him, even at three in the morning he could hear the denizens of Metropolis, partying, sleeping, breathing. But they were still a blur to him, a meaningless, nothing, he wished he could be frustrated about that, wished he could hate the fact that the world forced itself upon him whether he wanted to be a part of it or not. He even desperately wished that he could be angry again, that the rage that had consumed him after his fathers death could return, at least then he would be feeling something.

Melancholy firmly settling around him his attention drifted from the darkened roads as he glanced out across the park beside him, his eyes ferreting out every detail as if it were the middle of the day, squirrels, rodents, all foraging through the trees. He could both see and hear the homeless men that had sought sanctuary in the mildly safe park. Clark's eyes slowly focused on a woman in the park, he watched as she descended into euphoria, slumping back against a wall with the needle still sticking out of her arm. He envied her that feeling.

Finally he looked back out onto the road and it was as if time slowed, even from his perspective, he watched a young woman appear on the road. As if she had coalesced from a fading cascade of lights, his baby blue eyes gazed into her hazel ones and she reminded him oddly of deer caught in the headlights. She never moved, and even with all of his superhuman agility he wasn't able to veer the pickup more then a fraction to the right before it struck her at forty miles an hour. Clark got his wish as the pickup slammed into her frail and very naked body; he finally felt something. Fear, anxiety. Terror that tore through him as his mind slammed into over drive, he'd killed her…nobody could survive being hit head on at forty miles an hour, no one but him that was…

…But that was when the real shock hit, at forty miles an hour, with everything moving in relative slow motion for Clark, he watched as the pick up rippled as it struck the woman. The metal literally rippled as it wrenched and tore, screaming with its metallic voice as the woman continued to gaze at Clark in a bewildered fashion. She never moved, but the pick up was torn nearly in two as it continued to plow on. She still hadn't moved an inch until Clark himself snapped out of his shock enough to get out of the old truck. He found the indentation of the metal had sealed the door to the extent that he had to push it off with enough force to send it careening into the park.

In an instant Clark sped around to the front of the truck as the woman slowly turned to face him, he watched jagged metal tear across her skin without leaving a mark as she looked at him. Never before had he seen anyone that could take that kind of damage, not even the meteor freaks had ever been as invulnerable to harm as Clark himself. There was an almost ethereal glow surrounding her as she examined him, he couldn't help but blush as he was powerfully, visually, reminded of her lack of clothing.

"Are-are you alright?" Perhaps the most stupid thing he had ever asked, but she was leaving him feeling like a, well like a farm boy.

She gave a small, barely perceptible nod, as if she didn't want to break their eye contact, and then she collapsed. Her legs sliding out from beneath her as she twisted towards the ground, though she never struck it. Clark surged forward to reach her, her body folding into his arms like a child as he knelt, cradling her.

Carefully, almost hypnotically he reached out to brush a tendril of hair from her face, whether it was the fact he had just hit her with his truck, or the fact that it hadn't seemed to have hurt her in the slightest, she mesmerized him. Clark felt a stirring deep within him, a connection between the two of them, not lust but a form of captivation as he gazed down upon her. She had thoroughly shattered his reverie over his father's death, emotions that he had bottled up came flooding back. Concern and fear for his fellow man being the dominant feeling, his apathy fast becoming fleeting.

Holding her as gently as a newborn Clark stood with her in his arms and took a look at the remains of the old Kent truck, it had survived two meteor storms and dozens of meteor freaks, as well as the hazards of a teenage driver. But it appeared to have finally met its match in the woman he now held.

Sirens filled the cool early morning air and the distant flashes of red and blue forced Clark to focus on the situation at hand, his father had raised him to be responsible, and right then the responsible thing to do would have been to take the woman to the hospital. She didn't appear to be hurt, but she was unconscious. On the other hand, she had totaled the pickup truck without a single scratch; he knew what it was like to have to hide who and what he was. He doubted the women would want the world to know she was invulnerable to speeding trucks, not to mention that if the truck hadn't physically hurt her he was somewhat doubtful of what the police or a hospital could do for her. With those thoughts firmly in mind Clark glanced towards the ambulance and police car turning the corner before he vanished.

For all intensive purposes it would have appeared to an observer that he disappeared, one moment standing in front of his totaled truck, and the next moment gone.

**Chapter One - Introductions Kent Farm**

Clark gently stroked the stranger's hair, pushing it aside as she slept. After the events in Metropolis he'd brought her back to the Kent farm and tucked her into his bed to sleep, she was currently curled around his pillow occasionally shifting or grimacing, as if she were reliving a particularly bad dream.

Despite being twenty years old in human terms and facing life and death decisions every week Clark had been hoping his mother, Martha Kent, would have been home when he got there. With the burden of his secret he'd relied on the judgment and advice of his parents his entire life, and now that his dad was gone he was relying on his mother alone. He'd been hoping that she could have confirmed bringing the woman home as the right decision, or maybe have told him what the right thing to do would have been…but she hadn't been, and a good fifteen hours later at five p.m. she still wasn't home and the woman still hadn't woken up.

He was concerned about the stranger more then his mother. Once upon a time he would have been turning Smallville upside down if either his mum or dad weren't home when he got there, but now? His mother was a State Senator for Kansas, add in Lois Lane as her personal assistant and it was becoming increasingly rare for Clark to see his mum for any period of time.

Sighing heavily he lent back and was just about to call Chloe, the only other person who knew who and what he really was when the woman woke, or at least he assumed she woke. In a blur of motion she twisted into a seated position and almost on reflex one of her feet lashed out as she came to a stop. Clark felt that dainty foot strike his chest with an audible meaty thunk that shot pain through his ribs, as he became air borne. The force of her kick sent him clean through the wall and plummeting into the Kent driveway, just in time to see Chloe's little buggy of a car pulling up.

Dust flooded the drive as Chloe screeched to a stop mere inches from Clarks face.

"Clark! Clark! Are you ok?" The petite blonde asked frantically as she rushed to his side

"I'm fine," he murmured as he got to his feet

"What happened Clark?" she asked, gazing up at the side of his house where he'd taken off for his unexpected flight from.

"I decided to take up flying," he muttered sarcastically, he would have said more but she cut him off with her own retort.

"Most people use a plane" Again she cut him off before he could say anything else, "And whose this?" she asked, shrugging towards the auburn haired women standing not five feet from them. Admittedly he'd been a little distracted, but he hadn't seen or heard her move, added to her physical strength and apparent invulnerable he was beginning to wonder if she wasn't a Kryptonian herself…It was as much a secret desire as it was a fear that she could be from Krypton, so far his track record with other Kryptonian's wasn't too good. One was his biological father who had put him through a living hell, another two slaughtered a number of police and tried to send Clark to some kind of prison dimension, and then there was the Kryptonian Android that had duped him and then tried to kill him and his mother.

"Who the hell are you? And what the fuck did you do with my clothes?" She demanded

Chloe glanced towards Clark as if to ask, _her clothes_? Right at that moment all she was wearing was one of the Clarks plaid shirts, which draped down to the middle of her thighs.

Kent found himself blushing a little as he looked at her, "You don't remember?"

"Of course I don't remember, or I wouldn't be asking would I?" she said in a harsh tone, though he couldn't really fault her for it, especially if she didn't remember what had happened.

Chloe stepped forward with her hands out, as if to say she was peaceful, or harmless. "Hi" she said in an almost perky blonde way. "I'm Chloe Sullivan, and this" gesturing towards Clark "is Clark Kent" the woman seemed to almost recoil at the mention of their names "…as to your clothes, well I don't know"

"You weren't wearing any when I found you" Clark volunteered.

"Found me?" She asked

"Yeah, you ah, sort of appeared on the road in Metropolis last night –" he began

"-and you hit me" she finished, biting her lip "with, with a truck, a red pick up truck. Right?" she asked

"Yes. I hit you with my red pickup truck" he confirmed.

Now she looked confused, and more then a little angry "Then what the hell am I doing here? On-" glancing around "a farm and not in a hospital, and, and, wait, shouldn't I be dead? I might be remembering wrong but I think you hit me pretty hard and pretty fast, I mean you hit me at like thirty miles an hour" she babbled

"More like forty" Clark responded

"Forty miles an hour" she repeated with a shocked expression "…And I'm not dead…"

"More then that" Chloe added excitedly, she was practically aquiver with at the news "Your not even hurt, and Clarks truck is totaled, the engine, the entire front of the car is torn apart" turning towards Clark "like you wrapped it around a massive pole, only you did it in the middle of the street". Answering Clark before he could ask her anything Chloe continued, "that's why I'm here Clark. My contact in the 8th precinct told me about a red pickup truck one of the patrol cars found last night, he sent me some pictures and I couldn't help but notice how familiar it looked, and when I ran the plates and found out it was yours I thought I'd come out and see you".

She was hurriedly opening a manila envelope Clark hadn't noticed she was carrying before and pulled out a couple shots of his now deceased truck to show to him, but before he could take them the woman moved in a blur of speed to take them first.

As she looked down at the pictures she was trembling and shaking her head, "this, this is impossible" she whispered "no one could have survived that, not without a scratch to show for it"

Clark looked at her with an almost pitying expression, if she was just coming to terms with her abilities this would have been a hard shove into the reality of her situation. Taking the pictures from her and taking her hand in his he said, "I could have survived it, and you did survive it"

"Believe me when I say I know what's like to suddenly realize how powerful you are, what your special abilities really mean. I was hit by a car going sixty miles an hour a few years back"

She was still shaking her head "N-no" she stammered, "You don't understand, I've never done anything like that before" and now she looked terrified "or at least I don't think I have, I-I don't remember, I don't remember anything!"

Her terror was turning to denial and accusation as she looked at Clark. "You're lying, you have to be, just because I can't remember anything doesn't mean I'm stupid. Its physically impossible for someone to survive that" she said, violently gesturing towards the pictures Chloe was holding again.

"Take it easy" Clark said softly, about to mention that she had just kicked him through a wall, but she was already moving towards Chloe, grabbing her and shaking her, hard. Reacting on instant Clark reached out to stop her, she could have shaken him all she wanted, but Chloe was only human.

Grabbing her shoulder to try and stop her Clark was unpleasantly surprised to find that she was to him as he was to a normal human, with an almost casual shrug she through him a clear two hundred yards across the farm. Recovering almost instantaneously he moved into super speed to stop her from hurting Chloe, but by the time he reached her she had already stopped. She just looked at him, shocked at what she had so casually done.

"Its-Its not possible…" she whispered as she sunk to her knees in the dirt.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear right now, but you have to be careful, you can throw me around all you like. But Chloe's only human, you could have seriously hurt her without meaning to" he said as he knelt beside her

"_Only human_" she whispered

Looking up towards Chloe her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she tried to apologize but found the words refused to form, leaving her gaping like a fool.

"No harm done" Chloe said quickly, for a reporter she was a terrible liar, "tell you what, I'm sure Mrs. Kent has some clothes she wouldn't mind you borrowing" looking towards Clark as he nodded, "I'll just go inside and have a look for something for you to wear". She winced as she moved her arms and Clark gave her a quick once over with his x-ray vision, she already had some very nasty bruises forming along her arms, but was otherwise human.

As Chloe disappeared into the house the woman looked back up at Clark, once again repeating "_Only human_…if-if she's only human then what are you? What am I?" she asked

Normally Clark would have preferred to have just said something along the lines of they were different, special, if it came to it he would even admit to being affected by the meteors…but he could sense how fragile she was. Lies or half-truths would drive her over the edge, so very reluctantly he said, "I'm not human, I'm from the planet Krypton"

She just looked at him blankly "Krypton…am I from Krypton?"

"Truthfully? I don't know, I'm sorry to say it, but I really don't know…" he trailed off

Sensing there was more to what he said, she questioned further "But?"

Sighing he replied, "But I don't think so that, I don't think your from Krypton…I think your just special. I mean I've meant other humans who have been born with or who have developed amazing gifts…"

"But no one quite like me?"

"No. No one quite like you" A gleam formed in her eyes at that, as if she was testing an idea before saying it aloud

"I'm… unique," She sounded pleased with the idea that she was one of a kind; she even began to smile, and somehow that unnerved Clark. He'd seen firsthand what happened when people began to think they were unique, or special, when they could do things other people couldn't. He'd seen the results far too often.

At least he was convinced he had done the right thing by bringing her to his home, had she woken in a hospital and reacted as violently to the news of her survival she would probably have killed one or more people before she got a hold of herself.

One Hour Later 

Chloe had found better then some of Martha Kent's old clothes; she'd found some clothes Lois had left at the house. Now the woman was twirling in front of a full body mirror, satisfied in the blood red tank top that exposed part of her stomach and the acid wash jeans she wore. In her own words she said they were slightly immature, or juvenile for her, but that they would do in a pinch.

Clark would have loved to of seen Lois's reaction when someone called her clothes juvenile. She was also wearing one of Lois's denim jackets over the ensemble; Clark didn't even know Lois had owned a denim jacket in the first place.

"Too bad none of the shoes fit" Chloe commented

"I guess" the woman replied while wiggling her toes for them to see, "I'd love to know what happened to my clothes last night" she said as she twirled around again, her auburn hair falling in ringlets around her face and throat.

A discreet cough from the front door caused three sets of eyes to swivel towards Lois Lane herself and Senator Martha Kent. "An interesting question" Lois said loudly and with her usual smirk attached. Mrs Kent took one look at Clark, Chloe and the strange woman before turning to her assistant.

"I think that's going to be all for today Lois" she said in her sweet, motherly voice

"Are you sure? We still have to go over the deposition for your meeting with Waste Management tomorrow"

Mrs Kent smiled sweetly as she spoke, "I'm sure, we can take a working breakfast tomorrow morning"

"If you're sure Senator" she smiled at the title, Clark supposed she had a right to, it was in large part due to her campaigning strategies and organization that Jonathan Kent had won the seat to begin with. "Seya later cuz, Smallville" She just nodded towards the other woman, with a suspicious look at what she was wearing, before walking out.

"Hey mum" Clark ventured

"Hello Clark," She nodded towards Chloe, "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

"Uh, that's kind of hard to do mum, she doesn't actually remember who she is" Mrs Kent just nodded at that, amnesia seemed to be something that ran rampant in Clarks life, it wasn't terribly surprising that it would also run rampant in his friend's lives.

Clark proceeded to explain what had happened to the truck, how he had met the woman and what had happened since. As usual she took it all on board quite calmly and began to address her sons concerns, that he had done the right thing by bringing her home. Though she was uncomfortable with another person learning the truth of her son's origins.

"I suppose the first thing we should do is file a report with the Metropolis Police Department, maybe put up some posters or flyers in Metropolis to see if anyone recognizes you." Turning towards Chloe, Martha smoothed the skirts of her business suit before asking "Would you mind using your daily planet sources to see if you can find out where this young woman comes from?"

"No problem Mrs Kent"

"What about me?" The woman asked, "I don't exactly have anywhere to stay while we try to sort out who I am and I'm ah, a little worried about going anywhere until I can get these…abilities…under wraps"

Mrs Kent just smiled at her in a motherly fashion as if she had already assumed that the young woman would be staying with them for the time being. "Who better then Clark to help you?" she asked.

The conversation was starting to breakdown into ideas of dinner; after all there wasn't much else they could do until the next morning when the strange women asked Mrs Kent for a favor. She stood up to pace across the lounge room when she began to babble. "People can't really keep referring to me as her or she or woman and I was just wondering Mrs Kent, since your like a mum and everything if you could maybe give me a name, just, just until we find out who I am you know?"

Martha smiled at her, "Please, call me Martha" she said while she thought, "I know it's somewhat common but I've always liked the name Sarah"

"Sarah" she said "Saaarrraaah" she tested, elongating the world, as if she were rolling it around her mouth. "Sarah" she said again.

"I think I'd like to be Sarah for a while" she smiled and virtually hopped over to Clark before proffering a hand, "Hey Clark. I'm Sarah, pleased to meet you!"

Clark smiled back as he took her hand and felt her enthusiastically pump his hand up and down in glee. "I'd have offered to shake your hands as well Mrs Kent, Chloe…except, well I'd probably have crushed them…" she trailed off in thought.

Clark just nodded in agreement at her comment, he was glad that her fear and panic from earlier had been heartily replaced with pleasure and glee. What he didn't know was that Mrs Kent was thinking something similar, that she was glad Clark was no longer depressed and brooding over the death of his father, he was on the road to recovery. And for Clark, helping someone else was the best way for him to recover; it would remind him of who he was and who his father was.

* * *

**A/N: Comments? Opinions? Screams as you run for the hills? I'll take anything**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Ok: I'm adding an authors note here because I feel its needed, I am a Buffy and Smallville Addict so not to put too fine a point on it but I know as much about the shows as you all do...not to mention I'm writing this fic. I know that from the examples seen in the two shows Clark would be significantly more powerful then Glory, there is a _**REASON**_ he is not in this story. A reason which will be explained in the due course of this story that will mesh with the two worlds and hopefully be an acceptable reason. Your comments and reviews are appreciated, this is just so you guys don't need to keep telling me that I've got the power schemes wrong. Otherwise please feel free to review and comment, its always appreciated. And yes, for someone who asked this is the same story posted on TTH, but I thought I should update FF before I began to post new chapters.

Enjoy the story.

**Chapter Two**

**Cleveland**

"It's because of people like you my mother is dead"

In a blur of angry motion a black clad woman swivelled to perform a magnificent roundhouse kick, her red lined leather cape swinging across her leg as she impacted the street thug. He grunted as the force of the impact threw him into a wall, again he let loose an agonised grunt as his collision with the wall resulted in a cloud of dust emanating around him, she watched as his eyes rolled into the back of his head before he slid down onto the dirty street.

The Angel of Vengeance stood menacingly over the man's limp body, to a casual observer it might appear she was mugging him, but in reality she was searching for a pulse in the mans filthy neck. It was like he hadn't bathed in weeks and the stench coming off him made her want to vomit, but still she held her hand to his neck until she found the weak pulse thrumming through his veins.

Sighing with relief she almost had to stop and laugh at herself, only a few weeks before she would have thought it nothing to have killed him, he was a lowlife, a thug and the stains on his clothing indicated he was no stranger to violence. She smiled then as she did mug him, though she had to wonder whether it was still theft when she was taking what he had already stolen.

Normally she would have given the slim leather wallet that she had extracted from his pocket, back to its owner. But from the look of the thing it belonged to a wealthy man, and when she saw the hundreds lining it she convinced herself she needed to eat as well. With only the smallest amount of guilt from a nagging conscience she bunched the muscles in her legs and leapt.

The world flew past her as she soared past windows, and ledgers to the roof of a small apartment complex. Her leather boots touched down without a sound as she glanced around before taking another soaring leap across the street to a higher building. With the wind rushing by, her coat billowed around her in an almost melodramatic way. It was childish and unbecoming of her, but there was a cheap thrill to be found in leaping building to building in the early hours of the morning, the air so crisp and dewy it was practically tangible.

With the light of day at best an hour away the Angel of Vengeance dropped from a high rise to the edge of a park, once again with a soft landing as her legs acted like the perfect shock absorbers, distributing the impact through her body. The wet grass didn't exactly hurt when factoring in a soft landing either.

Slipping off her mask and coat the Angel of Vengeance became Andrea Rojas, rather then fishing out her glasses, she decided to stick with her contacts until she got back to her motel.

When changing between super powered vigilante and mild mannered American citizen Andrea had learned that speed was essential, in that regard her "vigilante" ensemble was mostly black leather which consisted of a body suit that could tighten over her everyday clothes, a coat and a mask. Her black coat could be inverted to become a sweet looking red leather coat with internal pockets for her mask and gloves. Her normal clothes could be put over the black leather vest and she just had to untuck her pants and lower them around her boots so no one could really see them.

Though she had to admit to herself her new costume, though she didn't really like to use the term costume. It made her feel too much like a bad cartoon or part of a freak show. Her new costume felt bulky, though it was so much more convenient for a quick change, she was thinking about just separating her vigilante and normal clothes again. It might slow her down in some regards, but it would probably cause fewer problems if someone recognised her clothes. Even though she didn't see how that would really happen, she was as careful as she could be, and she moved to a new city every few weeks…that was as much to do with her failed attempt to kill Lionel Luthor though.

He wasn't a forgiving man. And she knew he was looking for her…even with the problems that might create for her in the future Andrea couldn't regret not killing him, she had crossed the line once, she had been angry, and she had killed a man…and she didn't like the person that made her, she never wanted to go there again, never wanted to feel that kind of anger or hatred…She supposed using her abilities, her gifts, to help other people was some kind of atonement for her, as much as it was an attempt to continue her mothers quest.

Sighing to herself Andrea shrugged into her coat as a particularly cold breeze blew across her; she was near the centre of Winfields Park and the shadows of the tree's appeared to be reaching out to her in an eerie manner.

"Hey chicky babe"

Andrea swivelled to the sound of the sudden voice to see a tall Latin American man with a companion. Neither of whom looked friendly, the stench of the man's breath reached her from a good two metres away and she let a revolted expression cross her face.

"Me, and my buddy are lookin' for a good time" the first man said as a feral grin crossed his face "An' it looks like your it babe"

Two thugs, rapists, muggers, she didn't particularly care. All she knew was that they looked unarmed and would be easy pickings for her; she also knew it was **not** going to be a good day for them.

She smiled at them as they started to move forward, "So what d'ya say babe, you wanna play? Come quietly and we'll all have a good time". Another step forward and she would've driven the heel of her boot into his face and smashed his ugly little nose, but her eyes flickered to his companion for a fraction of a second as he began to move.

It was stupid thing to do, but that wasn't what was about to kill her…when her eyes switched back to the first guy she froze in something akin to surprise or shock. His face had morphed into something feral, hideous ridges forming across his brow as his teeth elongated and his eyes glowed an inhuman yellow. And while she stood frozen at the changes he lunged forward, arms stronger then a humans wrapped themselves around her as his head darted forward like a cobra.

A gasp shot out of her as first pin pricks of pain moved through her throat, his elongated teeth piercing her skin before the rest of his teeth sunk in. It was an indescribable agony as he wrenched his head back and took a chunk of her throat with him.

Slumping to the ground all Andrea could think about was how uncomfortable the cold grass was, and how it was getting her clothes wet…she could feel her hot blood welling up and being pumped from her neck and onto the grass as she watched the second of the two men approach her. The first appeared immensely satisfied with himself as he looked on…

…that was until a look of shock rocketed over his own face. She couldn't see why until a vibrant orange and yellow burned across his body, outlining his skeleton as he crumbled to ash. Standing behind the pile of ash was a young woman, Andrea's vision was beginning to blur but she could've sworn the woman was holding some kind of a stake.

Before the other man had the chance to do more then swivel into a standing position he was screaming and collapsing to the ground, his face looked like it had caved in under the girl's obviously vicious and violent assault. She must have passed out for a moment because the next thing she knew the man was gone and the young woman was kneeling beside her, hands firmly pressed against Andrea's throat, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

She was trying to say something but all Andrea could see was the woman's lips moving, it was if she wasn't speaking at all. Though before she completely passed out Andrea felt a childish pride in realising it wasn't the woman saying nothing, it was that she couldn't hear anything at all. The darkness engulfed her and she expected she would soon be burning in hell.

**Cleveland**

**St Barts Hospital**

Hell would have been a nicer place to wake up to.

It had been two days since Andrea was attacked in the park, and she was pissed off. She was supposed to be the Angel of Vengeance, the unstoppable, more myth then person, vigilante that aided the weak. She was _supposed _to be the heroine, what she wasn't supposed to be was the weak one. Andrea sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day, if she didn't think it would raise more questions she would have already left the hospital.

What she was already being questioned about, aside from why a young woman was walking through a notoriously dangerous park on her own at such an unseemly answer, was her remarkable recuperative abilities. Thanks to her souped up, meteor powered, heart Andrea woke up only a few hours after the doctors had pulled her out of surgery.

Apparently the drugs in her system should have kept her out at least another day, if not more, to prevent her from further damaging herself.

Tenderly touching the bandages at her throat Andrea wondered just how far gone the healing process was already, whether she would scar or not. Since her heart transplant nearly seven months before she hadn't been seriously injured, so she'd never really tested the idea that her "super powers" extended to super healing. She was extremely glad they did, or else she would probably have died in that park.

So far Andrea had told the doctors and the police that she didn't remember anything that happened, she also feigned ignorance concerning her recuperative abilities, while she focused on the multitude of questions threatening to burst out of her brain.

One plain clothed detective stood next to her bed, casually reclining against a wall as he looked down at her. A small scrunched up pad and a pen in his hand.

Looking into his eyes she couldn't help but wonder if he was getting enough sleep, dark rings were deeply etched into him. And his brown eyes were dulled, and she suspected jaded, as if he had seen far too many things in too short a span. Violent, perhaps painful things.

"_And your sure you don't remember anything?" he asked again, Andrea just shook her head, working on the philosophy of the less said, the better. It was harder to be caught in a lie when you didn't actually say anything._

"_Not even why you were in the park to begin with?" Again she just shook her head._

_Interestingly he didn't seem surprised, as if short spans of amnesia were something he regularly dealt with. Perhaps Cleveland was like Smallville, from what Andrea had read in some of Chloe's files the people of Smallville had an amazing habit of forgetting or ignoring the stranger elements of their own town._

"_And what about your name?" Andrea smiled at that one; she hadn't been carrying any ID on her, though the nurses had found the considerable amount of cash she had had on her person, so she'd given them a false name. Somehow she didn't think "Rita Skeeter" was going to be a permanent alias…_

_They would have known she was lying about her name regardless of what she'd said it was, so she hadn't bothered wasting any energy on coming up with something more clever. Though the attending doctor had laughed._

"_Well Miss Skeeter" the Detective began_

"_Ms" Andrea corrected him, she knew she was being reckless, but she had almost died less then 24 hours earlier and her reckless streak made her feel a little better. She knew she wouldn't really feel better until she kicked the ass of the men who attacked her, or any of the street trash would really do, since she doubted ash would be very satisfying to beat up._

She still couldn't believe the Latin American guy had actually turned to ash, she was still wondering if she hadn't just been delusional from blood loss…as soon as she could track down the woman that had saved her she'd be able to get a few answers

"_MS" he gave a heavy emphasis on the Ms that time, "Skeeter. If you do remember anything, though somehow I doubt you will. Give me a call at this number" he handed her a business card._

"_Sure, officer. Whatever I can do to help" he didn't bother to comment on her demoting him to officer or bother to say goodbye, he just walked off._

"_I know you've just suffered a severe trauma" the attending doctor began, "but antagonising the Detective? Not a good idea. Next time just try being respectful and make up something that's not so obviously a lie, MS SKEETER". Emphasising her entire alias that time. "He would have gone away happy, filed his report and never thought about it again"_

"_It sounds like you're encouraging me to lie to a law enforcement officer" Andrea said somewhat coyly, she really needed to get a grip on herself._

_The doctor, Sheridan she noticed when she read his nametag, smiled at her patronisingly. "Cleveland isn't like most towns, and I think you know that -" She didn't, but she wasn't about to stop him from saying something interesting. She hadn't just worked at the Daily Planet for information, she did have a genuine interest in discovering facts and exposing them, she just generally exposed them through vigilante acts. _

" –_The cops see a wound like yours and they'll just write it off" That was certainly food for thought, why would the police just write off a neck wound? It didn't really make any sense…_

"_The cops also know, even if they can't admit it to themselves or anyone else, that you girls have made a world of difference here over the last few years. Kept the body count low -" What the hell was he talking about? "- So they let a lot of things slide for you, but still, it doesn't hurt to be polite. Now does it?"_

_She smiled back at him, "I guess not," she said, playing along._

_He seemed to be genuinely smiling then. "Good, glad that's settled. Now on another note, I know I'm not meant to say anything aloud, but damn you must be good at what you do- " he made a little plunging motion with his hands, which could have been taken for any number of actions…most of which weren't nice. " –Since I haven't seen you in here before"_

_Still trying to play along with whatever the doctor was talking about Andrea struggled to sit up a little more while asking, "Ah. If you haven't seen me before how do you know what I do…?" She hoped she was asking the right question_

_Dr. Sheridan's smile widened at that, "You mean aside from the bite marks and impressive healing abilities?" _

_She nodded_

"_Why, Ms. Kennedy brought you in of course. Normally she lets someone else" waving his hands to indicate a shadowy or clandestine 'someone else' "bring in the victims, especially if they're as hurt as you…she doesn't like seeing people she's tried to save die. She generally only brings in the girls like her, the ones she personally knows". Andrea nodded at him like that made sense; he nodded himself for a moment before excusing himself to make his rounds…_

From what Dr. Sheridan had told her Andrea had pieced together part of the puzzle. Fact, until a few years ago Cleveland appeared to have a higher death rate then most places. Fact, the police seemed to ignore the more mysterious deaths in the town. Fact, apparently a group of young girls with enhanced recuperative powers seem to end up in the hospital alot. Fact, the same girls seem to have reduced the death rate. Vigilantes? Maybe.

She wondered whether they could be meteor freaks like those that apparently plagued Smallville. Or maybe they were a group of girls like herself, they'd received some kind of souped up organs.

If they were fighting Cleveland's criminal elements, then it would only be a matter of time before the Angel of Vengeance ran into them; she was sort of surprised that she hadn't already. Ignoring her time in St Bart's, she'd been in town for nearly a week.

Meanwhile in Cleveland Watchers Council Facility

With excessive force a young Hispanic looking woman with oval shaped eyes let loose a flury of blows against a punching bag. Each impact brought Kennedy a grunt of satisfaction as her knuckles began to bleed under the onslaught, it was only when the blue bag looked as if it was the one that was bleeding that Kennedy slowed and finally stopped.

She turned as if to walk away before suddenly shifting her weight with a furious scream and executing a spinning back kick with such force that the chain links holding the bag snapped under the strain. The bag itself landed harmlessly across the room as Kennedy finished the movement, locking her feet together.

She was breathing hard and her sweatshirt was soaked through, her dark hair damp and sticking to her face as she finally left the training room. The air stung against her knuckles as she made a slow walk down a burnished oak wood floor, the hallway surrounding her felt dark and oppressing and she had the sudden urge to tear it down around her.

To take one of the numerous weapons from the medieval arsenal decorating the walls and let loose her fury and pain on the innocent walls

Her frustration and anger was directionless, but not pointless. Two nights ago Kennedy had taken one of the new, young slayers given into her charge, for an easy patrol. Like all of the slayers the girl had been extensively trained in both theory and practical applications, but it was her first time going out into the night. Purposefully hunting the things that 'went bump in the night'.

And for a first hunt it had gone well, Kennedy had singled out a newbie, a vampire probably not even a week dead and then stood back and watched Marissa, her charge, efficiently and speedily dust the vampire.

But then Kennedy had made a stupid, rash decision, like she always did. She saw two other vampires moving in on a woman and went to stop them, issuing a hurried command for Marissa to stay put, stay sharp and keep her cross and stake handy.

It took her maybe thirty seconds to cross the park, kill the two vampires and start putting pressure on the woman's neck. And at thirty-one seconds she heard a wild shriek, Kennedy had barely glanced up when she saw Marissa fall. Something, or someone, had attacked her and Kennedy became left with the choice of saving the woman dying under her hands or going back to Marissa. Even if she wanted to delude herself she could see the unnatural angle of Marissa's neck, she didn't need to check for a pulse. And since her charge had died while Kennedy was trying to save an innocent victim, she was going to make damn sure the woman lived.

When she got back to the park Marissa's body was gone and two days later no one had been able to find her or turn up any leads.

"Damn it!" Kennedy screamed, smashing her hand against a crested shield. The metal indented under her blow and the crest shattered, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She simply made her way into an office across the hall.

The office was lavishly decorated with a thick and tantalisingly comfortable green sofa, a large ebony desk, it had a lush carpet and an expensive fireplace and she couldn't bring herself to care about any of those either as she sunk into the chair behind the desk.

On the screen of the laptop computer was a flashing orange video conversation, which she accepted after several minutes.

"Hello Giles" she said without enthusiasm.

He was pristinely dressed as usual and was cleaning his glasses, she vaguely wondered if his glasses were ever actually dirty. Willow had once said he did the whole cleaning routine when he was concerned or worried.

"Kennedy" he replied in greeting, "I'm terrible sorry for what happened to Marissa" he said. "You know its not your fault, she chose to be there, she knew the risks just like you all do". Kennedy didn't bother to mention that the point of the sponsor system was so that no slayer would have to hunt alone, that it was a sponsors duty to protect her charge until she was ready to 'patrol' on her own. When the system was first put in place almost three years again Kennedy remembered Xander joking about how it was like the Sith from Star Wars, there are always two. Master and Apprentice. He was such a dork sometimes.

She nodded wearily in response, not up for the pleasantries, or expressing the strange thoughts running through her mind. "What's up Giles? You didn't call to offer condolences"

"Your quite right" He was still cleaning his glasses, but now Kennedy could hear the playful screaming of adolescent slayers behind him. Another strange thought crossed her mind then, how was it she could hear mostly Americans behind him when he was in England? When they were first called a lot of Slayers treated it like the chance for an exchange trip, or world tour. Volunteering to be trained anywhere but there own country…Marissa had been from Ireland…

Damn it! She thought, she had to snap out of her melancholy and frustration, there was work to be done. Still she couldn't help thinking that it was the damn sponsor system that was dragging her down, when it had been two or three experienced slayers to a large group of newbies she had never taken a death so personally, but now that she was solely responsible for a girl's life?

"Rumours have been circulating around a number of American cities concerning a woman they have dubbed the _Angel of Vengeance_" Giles began. Kennedy had heard a few of the rumours herself, but nothing solid.

"From the scattered reports it would appear this Angel of Vengeance is a physically powerful young woman who has turned to vigilante justice" Kennedy considered what he was saying

"You think she might be a slayer?"

He nodded; "With so many of you now there were bound to be some that went undetected" Kennedy thought that made sense.

"No offence Giles, but if she is a slayer shouldn't you find someone closer to her? I mean you were the one who instituted the policy of slayers having their own territories and not leaving them until they were reassigned".

She couldn't quite believe how stupid she was when he smiled and replied with, "That is why I am contacting you Kennedy. I have reason to believe that she has entered your territory"

All she could say to that was "Oh"

"So, you ah, want me to talk to her? Tell her what she is, see if we can bring her under control a little, make her a little less flamboyant in the eyes of the media".

"Precisely" Giles replied, "Although you may wish to be cautious. Her form of Vigilante Justice has been linked to at least one murder in Metropolis, and the attempted murder of a rather powerful billionaire, she also seems to be using her abilities to police the lower forms of life in the cities, rumour suggests that she is not particularly careful with those humans who she is policing"

Kennedy just nodded.

"There is also the possibility that she is not a slayer, in which case –"

"In which case- " she cut him off, " –I could be in for a rather nasty fight if she's half as good as the tabloids think". This time Giles was the one to do the nodding.

And unfortunately a fight was more or less what Kennedy was looking for, she wasn't going to be in the most clear headed or rational mood when she found the Angel of Vengeance.

Next Night

Andrea, as the Angel of Vengeance, perched on the edge of a building overlooking a heavily populated cemetery. She decided she'd had enough of St Bart's and engineered her escape, more or less she jumped from a fourth story window at two in the morning. Her particular method of checking out meant that she lost her clothes from the night she was attacked, as well as the cash that she had taken from the street thug.

She unconsciously shrugged at the thought, she had more or less decided her original vigilante attire was more suiting, and conveniently it was still in her motel room along with the other few personal items she had.

During the course of the day Andrea had investigated the local libraries and found out just how many people died, or went missing on average, the number that did astounded her. Even more so when she checked back further then four years, before that the numbers were phenomenally higher.

Her day of investigation also revealed that death by wounds to the throat was very popular, which partially explained what Dr. Sheridan had been talking about when he said that police generally ignore or wrote off those deaths. She also found several hotspots around the town, places were people died or vanished more often. Surprise, Surprise, the parks were high on the list, as well as cemeteries and a couple of clubs. The local mall also had a surprising number of unusual occurrences.

The Angel of Vengeance swayed a little with the breeze as she squinted down at a group of men surrounding a lone girl. _What was girl doing walking through a cemetery in the middle of the night, alone? Especially in a town that was as dangerous as Cleveland?_

She was about to intervene when the young woman suddenly moved, in a blur of motion she disabled two of the men and in a matter of moments, and a flurry of kicks and punches, she turned each of the five men to ash. Again she felt stunned by what she had just seen, she hadn't been imagining it the night she was attacked, the Latin American man did in fact turn to ash. _Guess that rules out vengeance on him, _she thought.

With a swiftly executed jump the Angel of Vengeance shot into the air and streaked down to Earth, landing in a semi-crouched position on one of the crypts. Now that she was closer she could see it was the same woman that had saved her, and apparently the woman…Kennedy, Dr. Sheridan had called her, also saw Andrea.

Before Andrea could say anything the other girl lashed out with a sweeping roundhouse kick, Andrea was forced to flip backwards to avoid her. Effectively placing the stone crypt between them, a chill wind swept across the cemetery then, and the trees rustled while silence enclosed everything else. Again Andrea attempted to speak, but in one spry and almost unbelievably fast movement Kennedy had vaulted the crypt and planted a foot in her chest.

Andrea was pushed back with such incredible force that the tombstone she struck shattered behind and around her, a numbing pain spread through her back as she realised the other woman was going to relentlessly pursue a fight. The Angel of Vengeance had no desire to fight her, she had saved her life only a few nights before and she felt obligated towards her. Obviously this, Kennedy woman, was one of the girls that Sheridan had been talking about as well.

She was more powerful then a normal human, and had just slaughtered five men, who if Andrea had to guess, were also stronger then any normal human. She hesitated only a moment longer as Kennedy tried to deliver a knife hand strike to her throat; Andrea was barely able to turn the blow aside. Had she been a fraction slower her throat would have been crushed and she would most likely be on the ground, choking to death.

Andrea felt obligated to the other woman, but not enough to stand idly by while she tried to beat her to death. She resolved herself to fight, came what consequences may. One thing she knew for sure was that right then, Kennedy was trying to kill her, for whatever reason didn't matter…she was fighting for her very survival.

**Same time**

**Kennedy PoV**

Kennedy wasn't even breathing heavily; those five vampires had been rank amateurs who thought brute strength was all they required. Truthfully they made her more frustrated then she had been, she didn't want an easy kill, she wanted to hunt, she wanted to fight and to keep fighting until she had burned herself out. She wasn't being suicidal; she just needed to burn out the guilt and the pain of her failure to Marissa.

In the next instant she decided someone, somewhere, was listening to her, because a woman clad in black leather with a red lined coat and a dark mask concealing her face suddenly appeared on the crypt beside her. As if she had fallen from the heavens.

Kennedy didn't even give her consciousness time to register the woman must be the Angel of Vengeance, and that she was meant to be finding out who she was…not trying to kill her…before she swept a kick in her direction.

In an impressive display the so-called Angel went from a crouched position to an arching back flip, placing the crypt between them. With a savagery fuelled by her rage Kennedy vaulted the crypt, attempting to drive a foot through the other woman's chest. Had she been human, the blow would have killed her. Instead she was forced back into a tombstone, which proceeded to shatter around her, with a feral grin Kennedy spun as fast as she could, putting every ounce of muscle behind her next strike. Another attempt at a killing blow towards the woman's throat, but at the last moment the Angel of Vengeance turned her strike to the side.

And then Kennedy saw a calm expression settle over her opponent, a resolve flash from the eyes hidden beneath the mask. She was giving up a passive approach. Kennedy hadn't even fully registered the change in the woman before she was put on the defensive, a furious exchange followed as they traded blows back and forth.

It was a painful realisation for Kennedy as she realised the two were almost perfectly matched, the Angel of Vengeance was faster, more agile, but she lacked Kennedy's experience, her nightly combat with monsters and demons, she lacked her years of training in martial arts and weaponry.

In a somewhat desperate move Kennedy took a running leap up onto a memorial cross and used the angle and leverage to flip over the Angel of Vengeance, her hands raking down in a cheap and nasty move to slice at her opponents eyes. Her nails caught flesh and cloth and tore through them both. As she completed her backwards somersault, Kennedy found herself on her feet with flesh beneath her hands while the Angel was half kneeling, half leaning against a mausoleum, bloody farrows ran across her face. And with the torrents of blood stemming from the scalp wound Kennedy could only see one eye focused on her.

She had a horrific moment when she realised she may have just blinded the vigilante, blinded her after forcing a fight that the other woman had obviously wanted no part of. It took several more long moments for Kennedy to realise she was holding the Angel's mask in her hand, long strands of dark black hair covered most of the other woman's face.

But as if some cruel fate wanted to torment her further, all that glorious hair framed the pink, fleshy scars forming on her neck, the scars that resulted from a vampire attack. An attack that Kennedy realised she had foiled. She wanted to laugh at that, laugh and scream. Marissa had died while Kennedy was saving the Angel of Vengeance.

Kennedy desperately wanted to blame the Angel, but looking down at her she couldn't. Not after what she had just done.

One eye guarding Kennedy wearily, the slayer moved and broke the tableau that had formed between them. The Angel of Vengeance didn't give Kennedy a chance to speak or even to move more then a fraction, from her half crouched position she let loose with a jump requiring impossible strengths. The Angel shot into the air, and Kennedy watched her go, her coat billowing around her as she landed on the roof of a building across from the cemetery. Again before Kennedy could even begin to move the Angel leapt once more, vanishing into the night.

In her stupidity and anger, _**what had she done?**_

**Angel of Vengeance**

Immediately Following Fight

Half blinded Andrea wasn't at her best, she miscalculated her second leap and ended up smashing into an office rooftop rather then landing. She rolled and felt something sharp cutting into her, her skin becoming scratched and her clothes torn as she just lay on the asphalt roof, breathing heavily.

It was almost funny that the asphalt scratches stung more then her face, it was also terrifying. She could vaguely feel blood rapidly cooling and crusting to her cheek and forehead, caking her hair to her scalp as well. What she couldn't feel was her left eye; she prayed it wasn't a complete ruin, that it would heal in time.

But her prayers weren't very reassuring as she hesitantly and painfully tried to run her hand across her face, frustrated with the lack of actual contact she bit her own hand and used her teeth to pull off one of her gloves before trying again. This time she could feel the bloody wreck that she was, the skin around her eye was deeply perforated by Kennedy's attack…the ability to delude herself about the severity of her wound vanished.

Clenching her teeth to suppress any cries of pain Andrea rolled over and slowly crawled to her feet, only to discover her botched landing had torn up her leg as well, her pants were ripped right through and she was bleeding. Her strength quickly wanned and she found herself collapsing in almost slow motion until she was once again down on the asphalt roof.

She highly doubted any super leaps were going to be possible anytime soon.

As the night stretched on and she continued to lie, broken and bleeding the cold set in and waves of shivers wracked her body. Then the adrenaline wore off, and the numbness faded, she wanted to scream as agony slowly spread through her face. She had to viciously bite into her lip as soft tears seeped out of her good eye.

Despite her objection to hospitals she might have started screaming until someone found her, if it wasn't for the fact she would become a sitting duck in the hospital. And until she knew why the Kennedy girl had tried to kill her she didn't want to be a sitting duck, all she really wanted to do was get out of Cleveland. It wasn't turning out to be a great town for her.

As dawn settled over her, Andrea forced her good eye to marvel at the beauty of the cascading early morning light while its warmth began to seep into her, driving out the chills of the night

With the warmth of daylight, and the sounds of the town coming to life Andrea forced her body to raise itself up. Pleasantly surprised to find the asphalt-inflicted wounds were mostly healed. With a great deal of effort she limped to the edge of the building and rode the fire escape down to street level to slowly and wearily find her way home.

**Angel of Vengeance/Andrea Rojas**

**Motel**

Andrea stood before the steamed up dirty mirror in her motel room, the closet sized bathroom did amazing things for trapping heat and after her extended shower it appeared she'd turned the room into her own personal sauna.

After struggling back to the motel room she had pointedly ignored the bathroom mirror as she stripped off her ruined clothing and submersed herself in the pounding stings of a hot shower. She had desperately wanted to rid herself of the crusted blood and dirt that her fight and flight had left her covered in.

Sighing she brushed away her wet hair and swiped the mirror with a towel to reveal herself.

Andrea recoiled at the sight of herself, she wasn't a particularly vain woman, but the sight of her puffy, bruised and torn up face would have disconcerted anyone. She even felt a small sense of vertigo as she swayed before her own reflection.

Gently tracing the raw wounds on her face she was immensely glad the damage looked worse then it felt, surprisingly she could barely feel anything right then. Maybe a defence mechanism from her body?

Unable to bare the sight of her mangled eye Andrea lowered her sight towards her neck, her smooth unblemished skin until she reached the base of her throat and shoulder. A nice pink, shiny scar was well on its way to forming and the sight of that brought a smile to her face.

In less then seventy-two hours her body had done months worth of healing, it brought hope that her eye would also heal given enough time. Before turning away to get dressed Andrea let her eye flicker down to her breasts, between them to be exact.

Where there had been a hideous scar from her heart transplant, there were now only a few faint white lines. Another sign of hope.

Meanwhile in Cleveland

**Watchers Council Facility**

Kennedy could virtually feel the dawn light pressing around the building despite her inability to see it. The Council facility in Cleveland had been specially designed and built; to the outside observer it appeared to be a large building complex. But inside it was a veritable fortress.

Corridors were designed to work for multiple ambushes, crosses and various holy symbols had been worked into every aspect of the building. There were no windows facing into the building itself, though from the outside it appeared there were.

The building had even been sanctified, much like a church and was a private residential building despite housing anywhere from a dozen to a hundred people at anyone time. It was even heavily warded with magic's and the latest state of the art security systems.

It had been built to act as the launching ground for a war, which is how the new council viewed the battle against evil in every shape and form, no matter the size. Nothing was taken for granted and the council's policy wasn't to save money, but to wage and to win every conceivable battle that might ever be fought.

When it had first been erected Kennedy thought it was a little extreme, but after repelling successful invasions from both demonic and demonic representation, a.k.a Wolfram & Hart, her views had changed. She now believed being over prepared never hurt, and with potentials and slayers alike housed in facilities like the one Kennedy ran it would be much harder for anyone to pull a stunt like the First Evil had, hunting them down individually.

Kennedy sighed as she reclined in her office chair and waited for the other half of her videoconference to come to life. In the Watchers Councils newest incarnation there were multiple levels of power and control, at the uppermost pylon was the Elder Council, ironically named since only one member of the Elder Council was over thirty.

In the power scheme Kennedy herself was only a half step below the Elder Council, and she was answerable only to them. She had submitted a report concerning what had happened with the Angel of Vengeance the night before and had then called them to conference. What she had done was wrong, it was stupid, and childish, and despite only being twenty three years old the Council had placed a great deal of trust in her to act appropriately and to run the Cleveland facility.

She had abused that trust and the powers that had been vested in her and would prefer to face the consequences of her actions sooner rather then later.

At the very least she would be forced to step down as Co-ordinator of the Cleveland facility, not a terribly loss really since she hadn't wanted the job in the first place. But after that, a reprimand and punishment for her actions could vary from a slap on the wrist to expulsion from the Council.

Though she somewhat doubted she would be 'expelled'. Such an action required a unanimous decision by the Elder Council.

Finally, after what had seemed an eternity the first member of the Elder Council appeared on her laptop screen. Again she was face to face with Giles, though this time his expression was stern and a little angry rather then concerned. She couldn't really blame him for that.

The second council member was Buffy Summers herself, as the Oldest Slayer and being the person most instrumental in shaping a council as different from the previous one as possible, she had taken her seat on the Elder Council. From the beads wrapped around her neck Kennedy thought she was in Africa again, Buffy probably did the most travelling of any slayer or council member, she considered it her personal responsible to make sure every institute, facility and member of the new council was running smoothly and without complaint. Whatever she decided in regard to Kennedy would strongly influence the rest of the Elder Council. It was almost unheard of for her opinion not being the deciding factor.

Which Kennedy thought was a little dangerous, sure Buffy was the oldest, but she was idolised way too much.

Next Xander Harris appeared on the screen, she thought he might be in America as well, but what he was wearing and what she could see in his display didn't give anything away.

Kennedy was surprised when Giles started speaking; normally the Elder Council remained silent until all members were present. "In the matter that has been brought to the attention of the Elder Council regarding the actions of Slayer Kennedy towards the Vigilante Angel of Vengeance I am Rupert Giles"

Announcing the matter at hand and who you were or represented was customary for a convening of the Elder Council.

"I am Buffy Summers, and in this matter I also hold the vote of Faith Wilkins" That was surprising, normally Faith and Buffy butted heads constantly on decisions, the only reason Faith was really on the Elder Council was that, aside from being the second oldest and most experienced slayer, she held a unique view point from her walk on the dark side.

"Xander Harris" Xander announced with his usual goofy grin, as opposed to the serious expressions of Buffy and Giles. Kennedy dreaded what he might be about to say. "And in this matter I hold the vote of Willow Rosenberg, she has excused herself on the grounds that there may be a conflict of interest"

Kennedy smirked at that, she and Willow had been going hot and heavy for nearly two years before their relationship cooled down, and even though they'd both agreed it was the right thing to do and that they would remain friends Kennedy found herself being assigned to Cleveland. Far away from England where Willow preferred to stay when she was actually on this plain of existence.

Kennedy had always suspected Buffy had had a hand in her relocation, so she'd been extremely surprised when Xander told her it had been Faith who suggested she take control of the Cleveland Hell mouth.

At first she'd been angry and thought that Faith was trying to separate her from Willow after they broke up, but after Faith firmly kicked Kennedy's arse, she explained that they were too alike for Faith not to recognise the pent up frustration in Kennedy.

She thought that a hell mouth would be the perfect place for Kennedy to safely vent that frustration, she had been right as well.

Giles spoke. "The Elder Council has reviewed your report and we agree that even with the extenuating circumstances, you have acted reprehensibly" She expected the extenuating circumstances meant the death of Marissa. Kennedy didn't want it to seem like she was justifying what she done, or trying to hide behind Marissa's death so she hadn't included anything about it influencing her when she wrote her report.

"We have unanimously agreed that at this time you are emotionally unfit to be co-ordinating our Cleveland facilities and that you are hereby stripped of all responsibilities and privileges that have been granted to you" She had expected that, "We have also agreed that your protégé and second in command Laura Daines will take over your position" She had also expected that.

"However, we are at a loss as to what to do with you. We have taken into account the reasons for your unprovoked attack on the vigilante, and that said you were fighting an individual with abilities rivalling your own. The attack may have been unprovoked, but we believe it to have been a fair fight, we are also aware that this woman is wanted in connection to the murder of a man in Metropolis and the attempted murder of another man"

Kennedy waited as Giles patiently rubbed at his glasses before continuing

"From your report we see that you have deduced this woman is not a slayer, though you haven't specified how," now he was waiting for her.

"She had abilities beyond those of a slayer," Kennedy stated, "At the conclusion of our fight the Vigilante jumped at least sixty feet straight up as a means of escape. I know what a slayer can do, I mean I am one, and I seriously doubt even Buffy could make a sixty foot jump straight up"

Buffy gave a barely perceptible nod to indicate that she couldn't.

Kennedy watched as three people on her screen looked towards each other before terminating their individual connections to her in order to confer privately.

It was only a few moments later when they suddenly reappeared on her screen, Giles and Buffy looked somewhat sceptical, but it was Xander who spoke.

"I have a theory and a possible assignment for you Kennedy" he said, "My esteemed colleagues" he smirked at that, again his goofy sense of humour "Disagree with me, but after receiving your report I tracked the Angel of Vengeance back to where she made her first appearance in Metropolis, which is only a hop skip away from Smallville, the site of two of the largest meteor showers reported in the last twenty years."

"There's been speculation and a lot of rumours about Smallville" he explained, "And some other…people -" Buffy snorted at that and interrupted.

"By other people, he means Andrew" Kennedy smiled a little herself, Andrew had been somewhat useful while also being very annoying during the fight against the first and the rebuilding of the council. He was also the biggest geek alive.

Xander continued, "Like I said, other people and I think that the radiation from those particular meteor rocks in Smallville have been causing weirdness on the Sunnydale scale of weird…or its just possible there's another hell mouth there that no one has noticed before…in any case I think the Angel of Vengeance got her abilities there in Smallville and then got herself noticed in Metropolis and has since been moving around the country with her vigilante act.

So I propose you go to Smallville, check out the rumours and speculation and report back to us when you have something…Giles and Buffy don't agree with me on this, but they're willing to set you to the task"

"Oook" Kennedy said in a drawn out tone, "Sounds fair enough…but not really like a punishment for what I-"

Buffy cut her off " –We don't want to punish you, we know that you know you abused your abilities and the trust we had in you. As far as Giles and I are concerned Smallville's going to be a waste of time"

"Soo boredom is my punishment?"

"Exactly". Giles chided Buffy over that comment, but after that the conference dissolved. Kennedy thought they had let her off too easily, but then maybe she was looking for someone to punish her over her perceived failure to Marissa and she was blowing the Vigilante situation out of proportion.

She was surprised to see Xander still on her screen after the other two had terminated their connections.

"I know it sounds like a kind of bogus trip, but I'm serious about Smallville Kennedy, a lot of weird things happen there, though they only seem to be reported by a high school newspaper so they aren't given a lot of credence –" She couldn't believe Xander of all people had just used the word credence,

"This high school paper has reported, shape shifting girls, bug boys, pyrokinetics, telekinetics, apparently ageless people, and dozens of other freak events that the reporter thinks are linked to the meteor rocks"

She still wasn't taking the whole thing very seriously; the Angel of Vengeance was creeping into her mind again and she was wondering just how badly she'd been hurt. Kennedy had checked all the hospitals and she hadn't shown up anywhere.

Sighing she accepted a transfer of files from Xander relating to Smallville before saying goodbye and terminating the conference. She supposed she should go pack; technically her office now belonged to Laura.

**The Council of Elders **

**Video Conference**

Shortly after disconnecting from Kennedy a new video feed entered the conference of the Elder Council. Willow wore a light green sweater and had cascading red curls. She was connected to the conference from a council facility in Korea.

"Thanks" was the first thing she said.

Giles first impulse had been to recall Kennedy to England for an extensive evaluation, while he hadn't often agreed with the old council. Some of their methods had been effective. Had they still been around they would have had Kennedy undergo extensive psychological evaluations after having attacked a possible ally without provocation.

Willow had asked for clemency, even though she had been the one who wanted to cool off their relationship Kennedy was still one of her best friends, and Willow believed that bringing her back to England would do more damage then good.

Faith would probably have agreed, she had her own issues with council policy a lot of the time. Surprisingly Buffy also agreed for reasons of her own, and threw in Faith's vote for extra measure.

Xander was mostly interested in having a council agent go to Smallville; so far the rest of the Council had vetoed the idea. Thinking it a waste of resources needed elsewhere, but the rest of them had to admit it would be a good way to distract Kennedy. Willow knew she would be beating herself up enough over what she had done, as well as what had happened to Marissa.

With a heavy sigh of his own Giles spoke up, "I may have had an ulterior motive of my own for having Kennedy go to Smallville" the other three looked at him curiously. Clearing his throat he said, "Lately, several agents have heard rumours of a young blonde woman who greatly resembles a former" he hesitated, as if searching for the right word "a former nemesis" he finally settled on.

"Nemesis?" Buffy queried

Giles looked distinctly uneasy, as if preparing himself for an onslaught. "This woman apparently resembles Glory". Even via a videoconference Willow could see Buffy's sharp intake of breath which mimicked her own.

"Glory?!" She said furiously "She's Dead!"

"Yes" Giles agreed, "She is. There also haven't been any reports of increased mental illness in the area, or sightings of anyone who resembles Ben"

At that Willow watched as Buffy visibly relaxed.

"Now Kennedy has seen the files on Glory, if there is any possibility she is truly back I'm sure Kennedy will learn of it. Even if they are just rumours, sightings of her are important enough to investigated"

"Agreed" Buffy said, with Xander echoing her.

Willow didn't like the idea that Kennedy was being sent in to Smallville unaware of Giles' own agenda, but she supposed they had granted clemency so she couldn't argue too much. But just the thought of Glory sent shivers down Willow's spine.

After Giles revelation the conference really did break up, each person going back to their own concerns and not thinking too greatly on the possibility of a resurrected Glory. How wrong they were to so easily dismiss the goddess from their minds, soon they would be given a harsh lesson in reality, one they would never forget.

**48 Hours/Two Nights Later**

**Outside of St Louis, between Cleveland and Smallville**

The fastest man in the world stumbled outside of a sleazy bar in the middle of nowhere, blurred vision and a loss of balance caused him to tip forwards and collide with the rocky ground. He would've muttered a curse, except he started dry heaving, breathing in dust and being forced into a coughing fit.

Bart Allen was an eighteen-year-old male with less then rigorous morals at times, he was a good kid but he wasn't really much into doing the right thing by others. More along the lines of living a fast paced, exciting and luxurious life for himself.

He wasn't kidding himself about being the fastest guy alive either, when he was a little kid he remembered a crash and an intense blinding bolt of lightning, after that his body seemed to run at an accelerated pace. He was constantly hungry, like every other teenage boy in the world, except he had a phenomenally increased metabolism. That bolt of lightning had also gifted him with the ability to move at astonishing speeds, faster then a speeding bullet, he was literally capable of breaking the sound barrier, one day he thought he might even be fast enough to move faster then light itself.

But right then, all Bart was thinking about was the throbbing ache in his skull that seemed to be resonating through out his entire body. Worse then that, if anything could be worse then the skull splitting migraine, he felt…slow…

…Average even…as he tried to clamber to his feet.

FUCK! He thought viciously as his vision continued to blur, gaining a moment of clarity and strength as his vision momentarily righted itself he moved into super speeds. One moment he was half crouched against the ground, the next he was less then a blur and a good ten miles down the highway.

But it didn't last, he hadn't super speeded for more then a half second before he stumbled and slid along the asphalted high way. If falling before hadn't been enough of a bitch, his incredible speeds sent him skidding along the road, tearing up the side of his face and arm before he came to a stop.

It wasn't a good night for him. He couldn't even be bothered trying to get up again; he just let himself succumb to whatever drug was pumping through his system. If he had to bet he would have guessed it was some kind of date rape drug…

…_Earlier that night Bart speeded his way into the 'Carl's bar' without being noticed, from the run down filthy look of the place he could have been a two year old and the owners wouldn't have cared. The lights that weren't busted were dim and flickering, casting shadows across the room and making it even seedier then it already was._

_He considered high tailing it out of there for someplace a little more respectable, but at that point in time he didn't really care all that much. He just wanted something to eat and something to drink, god did he want something to drink._

_It was early, the sun having barely set, but already the floor of the bar was covered in liquid substances that caused his shoes to stick, only some of which Bart guessed to be alcohol. Or maybe that had nothing to do with it being early and was just another aspect of the bar, like an eternal commodity._

_Collecting his food and a beer Bart slid into a booth at the back of the bar, as far from the entrance as he could get while he cut up his steak and took a swig of his cougars. The beer tasted like shit and the meat was stringy and over cooked, leaving a charcoal taste in his mouth, but bad as it was it did satisfy his gnawing hunger._

_And by the time he had finished the bar had began to pick up its pace, boys and girls playing the roles of adults had filled most of the place up. A number of them with older men, obvious leeches and parasites. Perfect clientele for the bar in Barts opinion, he guessed the rest of the occupants were under aged high schoolers looking for a 'wild' night out, or just a place that wouldn't ask for any ID. Since the bar was only a couple of miles outside St Louis it probably didn't get checked too thoroughly by any licensing boards, and the kids probably didn't get too much hassle._

_Sitting back in the shadows he watched as a particularly attractive, and scantily clad, blonde began flirting with a group of older guys. All of who looked like trouble in his opinion, but she was fun to look at as she 'accidentally' flashed her cleavage to most of the room._

_Chuckling to himself Bart went Speedy Gonzalez, from his perception he was calmly and slowly walking out of a room full of frozen people. In reality he was moving faster then most human eyes could comprehend._

_He casually swiped the blondes coke and bourbon as he walked out of the room, with the way she was dressed the seedy looking guys would be lining up to buy her another one._

_Bart was half way across the bars parking lot when he gulped the bourbon down; it was an immensely satisfying sensation as its warmth tickled his throat. Alcohol stolen was sweeter then alcohol earned he always said. The effects of the drugs hit him a moment later and he in turn hit the ground._

And now? Bart was lying on the side of a highway in the dark, reeling from the effects of whatever those seedy bastards had tried to drug the girl with. He had no doubt it had been them, he'd grown up with the workings of the streets and Carl's Bar was just the kind of place those kinds of leeches would frequent. After all how many girls were going to report they'd been raped when they were already breaking the law themselves?

Of course if Bart was so badly effected by whatever drug they had used, it would probably have killed the blonde, his accelerated metabolism was already burning it up and yet he was as far gone as he could be and remain conscious. He chuckled almost maniacally for no reason as the cold began to seep into him.

And then there was the light, not the light at the end of the tunnel, but twin lights that bore down on him from the Porsche that was screaming up the highway. For a moment he thought he was about to be road kill, but the car veered and screeched to a stop a few meters from him as a gorgeous Hispanic looking woman climbed out.

Even from his prone position, looking at her from upside down he marveled at her and began to giggle, though that may have had more to do with the drugs taking a stronger hold of his system. Despite his eyes following her, the woman knelt beside him and placed two fingers over the pulse on his clammy neck.

He felt his own pulse as she did, slow and erratic, for him it should have been beating harder and faster then a normal persons. Bart saw the woman caught in a moment of indecision as she continued to kneel beside him before she carefully scooped him into her arms and placed his bleeding body on the soft leather interior of the passengers seat.

Bart was really starting to zone out then and couldn't manage to string the thought together of how a girl who had to be 20 pounds lighter then him was able to so easily carry him. She was also speaking but he couldn't really hear her, just scattered words. But the intent got through to him. She was asking, what was she to do with him?

His attention was wondering and his vision was blurred worse then ever, his inability to think straight caused him to latch onto the one concept that seemed safe.

"Smallville" he said, or at least that's what he thought he had said, but it must have come out slurred and incomprehensible. It had been more then a year since he was in Smallville, and though he'd sent some scattered emails to Clark, he hadn't really kept in touch. But some part of his drugged mind seemed to be latching onto the memory of Clark.

Clark was like him, different. He was also one of the good guys, safe…and he was in Smallville. If Bart hadn't burned the drugs out of his system by then he'd at least be somewhere safe.

In his irrational state of mind he wasn't thinking about the fact he was a couple of states over from Smallville, or the fact that some rich woman has just popped his bleeding body into her Porsche and would likely take him back to St Louis or dispose of him as soon as possible. Maybe even back at Carl's Bar, he just kept trying to repeat the same word, Smallville, over and over again until he drifted into a coma like state of sleep while the drugs waged war on his body.

_**Kennedy POV**_

_**Next Morning**_

Kennedy's silver Porsche screamed over the highway at eighty miles an hour as the last of the dawn light faded from view to be replaced with the simmering vision of the sun. She smiled as she slid her elegant and expensive sunglasses over her eyes, enjoying the watery pricks in her eyes from the sunlight.

Fighting the forces of darkness certainly taught a girl to appreciate the morning light, it being a slayers saving grace on numerous occasions.

As for the Porsche she was driving at reckless speeds, it was a 911 Carrera 4S and it was 175 inches of lean mean machine that could go from zero to sixty miles an hour in 4.6 seconds with a top track speed of one hundred seventy nine miles per hour and it had cost more then a hundred grand.

Kennedy freely admitted that she was a spoilt brat, she smiled as she remembered the first time she said that to Willow, she was a spoilt brat who always got her own way. The spoilt part heavily factored into the Porsche, her parents had bought it for her on her 21st birthday, the first birthday she spent in Cleveland without Willow as well.

She figured being a slayer meant living dangerously; she might as well put that danger into practice in every aspect of her life, like her insane version of driving. She just found it so…freeing…letting the world blur away with her ever-increasing speed. The windows were down, so the cool post dawn air was causing her hair to whip around and she wished that the Porsche was a convertible so she could put the top down.

Sighing she immersed herself in the pleasure of the moment before glancing over at her injured companion. In the light of day she could see he was only a couple of years younger then she was, but even asleep, or maybe unconscious would be more accurate, he had a worldly aura to him. A hardness to the set of his features like he'd had to grow up too fast, a common problem in the world they lived in, though she hoped his world wasn't quite as hard as hers. It was like a minor compulsion, a protectiveness was weaving around her as she watched him. Which was more then a little odd for her.

With her heightened slayer senses Kennedy noticed the moment his breathing changed and a quick glance towards the boy revealed his REM patterns were over. The boy was awake.

"Ah hi" he said in an abrupt manner, a smile cracked her face as she thought how most people would react to their previously silent, unconscious companion, suddenly speaking. She suspected a gasp of shock would have been issued, or even the driver twisting body and wheel towards the voice. Kennedy did neither.

"Good morning" she said in a sweet, mature tone without looking towards him.

"Not that I'm not grateful for you picking me up off the side of the road" he began, she heard the leather squeak as he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, "But its morning"

After a brief pause she prompted him, "And?"

"And…and it wasn't exactly late when you picked me up?"

She smirked, "I'm glad to see whatever drugs you were on haven't affected your ability to state the obvious, but I fail to see your point"

Glancing at him she saw his slight frown, "I wasn't on drugs" he murmured

"No?" Kennedy asked in an almost patronising tone

"Ok, technically I was on drugs. But not deliberately, I just…had a bad drink is all" it was then he realised she was side tracking him

"The point is, where the hell am I? Most people would have taken me to a hospital or called an ambulance, or even just dropped me off in a public place. So again, where am I?" A touch of anger, and maybe frustration in his voice, which just carried her amusement to new heights. Sometimes she wondered if that streak of sadism in her wasn't a fault, but truthfully she was enjoying goading a total stranger. Someone who could take her mind off her own problems, if only for a few moments.

"No actually, most people would probably have ignored you" she started and considered stopping there, but caste off that temptation, "And you are currently on your way to Smallville. You seemed quite determined to get there last night"

"Smallville?" He looked a little taken aback, "I can't believe you picked up a guy on the side of the road and listening to his drug induced ravings took him to Kansas"

Kennedy smiled again, he really was quite amusing, "I was heading there myself, if it was just a drug induced raving then I'll have done just what you say _most_ people would do, and dump you somewhere public". Glancing at a sign they blurred past she continued

"And now I am there".

Whipping his head around Bart suddenly wished he hadn't as nausea flooded him, he didn't see the sign welcoming them to Smallville. But he did see the Kent farm as the Porsche streaked forwards, towards the town itself.

Groaning a little as the nausea settled down, Bart continued to feel a lingering sense of…slowness…in himself. Slow was the only way he could really describe the sensation.

"Thanks" he murmured before beginning to succumb to an echo of the drugs in his body.

"I'm Kennedy," she said as he slipped out of consciousness, and knowing he was out of it again she said "And now you owe me"

**Cleveland**

**Next Night**

**Angel of Vengeance**

The Angel of Vengeance stalked her prey through Matalin Park, she had slept through a day in her motel room letting her body heal as she rested before she began to become angry. The scratches and bruises resulting from her fight had healed, even the bloody furrows across her face were gone, but there was a barely visible line streaking through her left eye.

A streak that appeared to have severed parts of the retina, because despite the rest of her body having healed, it still hadn't. She knew she was being impetuous, that even _her_ wounds would require time to heal, but she was also frightened that she might forever have lost the use of her eye.

And that fear had fast turned to anger, she wanted to know why the other woman, why Kennedy, had attacked her. She also wanted to know what the hell was going on with the town's incredibly high death rates and the group of girls that was apparently fighting to keep it down.

She also wanted answers as to how those men had all turned to ash, one she might have let slide as a freak incident, but after having watched it happen six times? All during the night and all because of a wooden weapon that Kennedy had wielded.

While she recuperated in her motel room she had scanned the net and the only answer that fit all the pieces was insane, even by her standards. Meteor freaks? Or natural mutations were possible, but hoards of undead, soulless, vampires running around was a little harder for her to come to grips with.

As the Angel of Vengeance Andrea had followed dozens of young women through cemeteries and parks over the course of the night without a single incident, though she had picked two of the girls out as having possibilities. Something about the way they moved screamed that they were dangerous, that they were predators.

Finally, with scarcely an hour before sunrise Andrea, found part of what she was searching for. An African American reaching well above six foot, he was expertly stalking a young blonde woman twenty feet ahead of him.

If she hadn't had a vantage point which let her overlook most of the park, she would never have noticed the man slipping between shadows and while he might have been just been another common low life, she didn't think he was.

None of the street scum she had ever met bothered to hide their approach so well, he was too practiced, too good at the hunt, as if it were his very life, as if it was the hunt that thrilled him more then the kill itself. For a moment Andrea was concerned that she could identify with him too well, so she made her move.

Swooping from the treetop, she glided into him, the meaty sound of her two boots ploughing into his chest resounded through the air as he was thrown back with a hard grunt. Careful to keep him on her right side the Angel of Vengeance relentlessly pursued her assault, smashing a boot into his throat.

If he was human it would have been a killing blow, but somehow she suspected it would mean a lot less to him. He snagged the boot as it pressed against his throat and gave a hard shove, using her new momentum Andrea proceeded to arch into a back flip. Landing lightly on her feet as the man darted from ground level into a crouched position and lunged towards her.

After his precision stalking she was somewhat disappointed by the sloppy attack, she suspected the way his face morphed into a contorted feral version of itself was meant to shock her as he lunged, and if she hadn't already seen it before it probably would have.

With a smile she easily dodged the clumsy grab and dropped to the grass to sweep out his feet, landing on his stomach he growled and attempted to jump up again…that was until he felt the hard, and sharp, point of a stake pressed against his back.

Suddenly he was a whole lot more cooperative as he lay there, passive, frozen. Just because Andrea couldn't come to grips with the idea of vampires, didn't mean she wasn't prepared. She'd carved the stake from a flimsy chair leg in her room.

"Easy there boy" She whispered as she crouched with a foot firmly pressed into his back, as well as the stake.

"You and I are going to have a nice little chat, or we'll see what this piece of wood can do"

His only response was a vicious growl, she responded with the stake, applying enough pressure to draw blood.

"You may have heard of me" Andrea said, "the tabloids call me the Angel of Vengeance…and what do they call you?"

Once more he growled and tried to resist, this time she pushed the stake in further until a gasp of pain escaped him. "BITCH!" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

Changing tact, she asked in a calm and rational voice. "Are you a vampire?"

"Of course I am you fuc- arghh," he roared. At the beginning of his foul language she had twisted the stake to the side and shoved it deeply into his shoulder blade before swiftly wrenching it out and placing it back over his heart.

"I'll ask again, try to be civil this time. Are you a vampire?"

"Yesss" he hissed. He was either insane or telling the truth, she really hoped he was telling the truth, other wise she had just stabbed a normal man.

"Good" she said sweetly before roughly turning him over so he could look up at her, she had less control of him that way, but at least she could see his face. Again the stake slid over his heart as he glared daggers towards her.

"Now what's your name?"

"Clarke" he practically whimpered, "Angus Clarke"

For a creature that was spawned from myth and legend, a monster that made grown mean fear to walk the streets at night, Andrea was finding him to be a terribly disappointment.

"Now I just have a few questions for you Angus, and if you behave your free to go" He looked at her disbelievingly, but at that moment he must have also noticed the light at the edge of the park. The sun was dawning, and if the lore was true it would make him a crispy critter the moment it touched his skin.

"Two nights again a young Hispanic looking woman with brown, oval shaped eyes and dark hair killed five of your kind with a weapon like this" pressing the point of the stake in more sharply, "Who and what was she?"

He looked at her like she was nuts, or maybe just ignorant.

"Kennedy" he quickly responded as she began to become impatient, "Sounds like Kennedy"

Well that confirmed what the doctor had said, she vaguely considered paying him a visit, but he had helped to save her life. It would probably seem ungrateful if she beat him around until he answered her questions.

"And what exactly is she?"

One of his hands popped up to wave in front of his face when she looked impatient at his response time, "She's like our freakin' bogeyman, she's a slayer"

"A slayer?" She quizzed

"Yeah, yeah, like you know the deal, one, always a girl in each generation, she hunts the hunters, kills the killers, faster, stronger then any normal person" he babbled

"From what I've heard there's more then one of them" Andrea prompted

"Like, yeah there are now. A coupla year's back there went from one to being two, and then from like two to hundreds. Now they're all over the place"

Hundreds of super powered girls fighting the forces of darkness? It was a strange thought, but if they were as powerful as the vampire seemed to think, and Andrea knew from experience they were strong, then it could explain why most people were ignorant of the existence of vampires. It was something for her to think on, unfortunately right then was not the time to be doing it.

In a lightning fast movement the African American vampire clapped her on the left side of her head, as she saw stars in her good eye she rolled away from him. Idiot! She thought, her blind side had left a weakness that he must have seen.

As she came to a stop she felt a large heavy weight suddenly drop on her, the vamping was straddling her and keeping her arms pinned above her head. His breath reeked as he smelled along her skin, "Should've staked me bitch, now maybe I'll stake you" from the flash in his eyes and the grin on his face it was obvious to her that he thought his innuendo was clever.

Changing his grip so that only one hand pinned hers, the fingers on his other hand hooked under her mask, "Let's see your face bitch"

It was her turn to smile; as he pulled her mask off she arched her back in a one fluid, rapid movement, so that when she hit the ground he was crouched above her and no longer straddling her. In the blink of an eye she drew her legs back onto her chest and shoved him until he was airborne.

He screamed as he passed into the light, fire erupting along his skins and she was surprised that it wasn't instantaneous. Instead he began to shake and cuss as his body was wracked with flames before disintegrating into ash.

Flipping to her feet Andrea adjusted her mask until it was comfortable again and briefly wondered how stupid a vampire was to be out so close to dawn if the sun was lethal. Shaking her head in wonder she noticed for the first time the blonde that the vampire had been stalking was standing in the sunlight, a tree to her back as she crossed her arms. It was a very composed position, as if she saw vampires turning to ash every day.

Which she probably did, that same predatory vibe Andrea had seen in two other girls during the night, surrounded the blonde. A logical deduction suggested that she was one of the slayers, and that she had been leading Mr. Dusty into a trap.

The blonde smiled as she stood her ground, Andrea realised she must have watched her interrogating the vampire.

She spread her hands in a peaceful gesture, showing she was unarmed while maintaining her distance. "My name is Laura Daines," she said in a voice lilted with an English accent "And since Kennedy's departure I am co-ordinator of the slayers in Cleveland"

Kennedy's name certainly got the Angel's attention, "I see you do recognise her name. On behalf of the Watchers Council I'd like to apologise for her attack on you, since then she has been relieved of her duties and has left the city"

Focusing her good on the slayer, Laura, Andrea shifted closer to the other woman, letting curiosity spread across her face. "Why have her attack me, and then apologise for it?'

"Oh, no, you misunderstand. Kennedy was sent to find you, I admit that, but she was riled up from her fight and from…earlier events…she was distraught, but she was never meant to attack you. The current Watchers Council would never have a slayer attack another force of good, and from what we understand Andrea, you are a force for good"

Without meaning to Andrea took a step closer, and took a less polite and more battle ready pose. "How do you know my name?" she asked aggressively

Laura smiled benevolently, "When Kennedy realised you were the same woman she helped in the park a few nights ago it was a simple matter for the Watchers Council to have a sample of the blood they took and cross reference it with the major cities where the 'Angel of Vengeance' has been seen. That's how I know your name is Andrea Rojas"

The Council that she kept speaking of was sounding more and more like a threat, an organisation that could so easily track her down and discover her identity?

"What is this Watchers Council?" she asked

"You truly do not know? I thought that you must have been feigning ignorance to the vampire" Andrea didn't particularly like being called ignorant, but let it go since it was technically true.

"If you'd agree to come back to our institute, I'll give you a grand tour and answer any questions you may have. I suspect you'll have a few if you've truly only just learned about vampires and slayers" There was something sceptical in Laura's tone, but Andrea also let that go.

Andrea was very curious, but she was also nervous about going anywhere with the woman, especially somewhere that had multiple people with superhuman abilities. After all she had barely escaped her fight with one of them, she might not be so fortunate if she was being led into a trap with multiple assailants.

Almost as if she was reading her mind, Laura said, "I understand you being sceptical. From your point of view, one of us has already launched an unprovoked attack on you. I can give you my word that no one will lift a hand against you"

That didn't do much to alleviate her concerns.

"Ok, how does this sound? You and I can meet in a public place tomorrow; say the downtown central markets at one, maybe Joeys Pizza Place? And I'll tell you everything I can, and if you still don't want to come with me the Watchers Council will never try to reach you again"

If Andrea knew Cleveland a little better she would have suggested an alternate time and place, but she was playing on the 'councils' turf. She needed to know more about them before she met anyone, anywhere.

"Agreed" She said, and then bunched her legs and rocketed into the sky, soaring past the tree line, across the street and clearing the roof of the closest building complex. She had a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it in.

**Date**

**To:** Rupert Giles

**From:** Laura Daines

**Subject:** Angel of Vengeance

Mr. Giles,

I apologise for the impropriety of this message, but I thought it important I should immediately inform the Elder Council of current events.

Shortly before sunrise this morning Andrea Rojas, better known as the Angel of Vengeance proceeded to interrupt my patrol of Matalin Park. It appeared that she believed I was a victim being stalked by a vampire. She defeated the vampire and questioned him,

Apparently she was unaware of the existence of Vampires, Slayers or the Watchers Council until after her fight with Kennedy. After she eliminated the vampire I revealed my presence to her.

She was guarded, hesitant. But she has agreed to meet with me at one p.m. tomorrow.

There may also be a further complication. In Kennedy's initial report she said that she might have injured Andrea Rojas when she scratched her face. Evidence from my encounter with her suggests that is a definite possibility.

Andrea Rojas was unable to see a strike that the vampire launched on her left side, nor did she seem to be able to focus her left eye on me during our conversation. If she has been permanently blinded in one eye I fear she may become dangerous to the Council.

I shall file an official report shortly, but for the moment, how should I proceed?

Laura Daines

Cleveland Facility Co-ordinator

**Date**

**To:** Laura Daines

**From:** Rupert Giles

**Subject:** RE: Angel of Vengeance

Proceed with the meeting.


End file.
